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Sometimes Draco wasn’t sure how it had started. He had begun that school year thinking of staying out of everyone’s business, quiet, not getting into trouble. The only friend who came back with him was Blaise Zabini, so Draco hoped he would go that year without causing any trouble.

Obviously when Potter was around, that couldn’t be true.

One day he was walking down a corridor when, without paying attention, he hit Potter's back. Potter had just said ‘sorry’ unwittingly, probably not wanting to cause any confusion, but the urge to shout ‘look where you're going, Potter, you arsehole’ was stronger than Draco.

They were alone in the corridor, and the thrust he received was expected. The kiss against the wall, five minutes after a fight that had everything to be the worst of all fights, wasn’t. Not even when Potter pulled him into an empty room, bent him over a table with his legs obscenely spread and fucked him without even thinking about what he was doing.

Draco never came so fast in his life.

And honestly, he didn’t know why he was still doing it, but he couldn’t stop. At that very moment, he was folded over himself on Potter's bed, in the bedroom he shared with Weasley and Longbottom in the eight year dormitory. The curtains were closed, fixed with a sticking charm, a strong silencio around them. Draco had no love lost for Potter, but that idiot Gryffindor and his cock were something Draco couldn’t stop thinking about during classes. Especially after a night like this.

Potter’s hands clutched Draco's thighs tightly, pressing them against Draco. His knees were practically on either side of his head, and Draco only groaned, loud, hoarse, feeling the sliding of Potter's thick cock coming and going. His stomach was already sticky with semen, but he felt he was about to come again, untouched.

“Come on, Malfoy. Come... Come as I fuck deep into your sweet little hole...” Potter's voice reached his ears, and Draco squirmed under his hands, the orgasm destroying his entire body once more, and another wave passed through him when he felt his insides warm up with hot liquid filling him up. Potter came like a horse, and Draco felt, even during the frenzy of his own orgasm, when the other's come flowed out of his abused hole, wet noises reverberating between them, until Potter stopped.

His breath was heavy, and he let out a hoarse grunt as he got out from inside Draco. The blond moaned softly, his spine relieved, but also missing Potter's cock filling him up. He was a mess, and so was Potter, but they lay side by side for a few minutes, trying to breathe and compose after such intense sex. Draco casually touched his limp cock. Even after they had come already, the size difference between him and Potter was obvious. Draco felt embarrassed the first time, considering it was such an obvious difference, and Draco felt ashamed to be so much smaller than Potter, but now... He could barely think when Harry put their cocks together and toyed with them.

Draco was considering getting out of bed when he felt the touch of Potter's magic, clearing them of the sticky mess that was on their bodies. Draco sighed, relieved to feel it, and didn’t complain when Potter put his arm around him and went down a little on the mattress, wrapping his left nipple with his mouth. Draco closed his eyes and let Potter do what he pleased. The Gryffindor was on him for at least five minutes, sucking, licking and biting his nipple. Draco admitted it was hot, and even though he wasn’t exactly hard as Potter did it, he liked the feel of Potter's mouth on his chest. Draco had no idea why Potter liked it, but let him do it anyway. He also didn’t complain when Potter spent an entire hour with his head tucked between his legs, fucking him with his tongue.

“See you tomorrow?” Potter asked, now giving little kisses from his chest to his ear.

“Hm-rm... After midnight... I’ll come to you,” Draco said, standing up. He undid the spells around the bed and opened the curtains, just a crack, to see if anyone was in the bedroom. Seeing no one, he cast a spell to lock the door and left the bed, putting on his clothes once again. Potter put on his jeans and shirt, not bothering with his pants, and handed him his beloved invisibility cloak. Draco considered stealing it every time he felt the cloth in his hand, but every time he thought Potter would just find him and break his face in four different places.
He covered himself with Potter’s cloak, not bothering to say goodbye. He unlocked the door, and left. He went into the bathroom, got into one of the stalls, took off the cloak, wrapped it in his own jumper to disguise the material, and headed to his room.

Blaise was sitting in his own bed, reading. He looked up at Draco, an eyebrow raised. There were only the two in the Slytherin bedroom, at least in the eighth year.

“Finally decided to show up?” Blaise asked, and Draco shrugged, putting his jumper in his trunk and locking it with the strongest locking spell he knew. He sat down in his own bed, his back to Blaise so he wouldn’t see his little grimace of pain. His bottom was still sensitive. “Where were you?”

“At the library. Reading,” Draco answered, taking off his shoes and socks.

“Are you sure? You have a big purple bruise on your neck,” Blaise said, and Draco cursed softly, putting his hand on the spot Potter had attacked earlier in the evening, pressing and feeling the slight little pain that, to his desperation, made his cock respond immediately.

His life was being destroyed by the little traitor.

“I-I fell down and hit one of the shelves,” he explained, and Blaise snorted.

“Seriously, who is she? I'm not going to judge you if she's in Hufflepuff.”

“It's no one in Hufflepuff!” Draco said, too fast, and swore to himself. “I was just reading. Good night, Blaise.”

“Good night, Draco,” Blaise said, and Draco pulled the curtains around his bed, kicking off his trousers. He wanted to change his clothes, but he knew that if Potter had left that mark on his neck, he would have left it elsewhere, and Draco didn’t want to justify it. “You know, scourgify is a great spell, but it has a flaw. It doesn’t take away the smell of things. And I can smell sex from over here.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, ignoring Blaise and pretending to be asleep. He couldn’t just tell Blaise what was happening.

The truth is, he and Potter weren’t boyfriends. They weren’t even friends. After that first, wonderful time, they came to the common agreement that repressed rage was a great catalyst for sex, and then they kept doing it whenever possible. They didn’t talk, they had nothing that resembled a friendship. They met, they fucked, they went on with their lives, and that's it. It was something that worked for Draco, and it worked for Potter.

Especially because revealing that kind of agreement, even if they made it clear that they weren’t boyfriends, was dangerous for both of them. It took Draco many years to accept that he was gay. He admitted that he spent years dealing with internal homophobia, and that only after the war did he begin to accept that about himself. After being saved by Potter from the Fiendfyre, more precisely. The way he had been brought up, his childhood, and his whole teenage years had made him deny this part of himself. A good wizard, a traditional and correct wizard, marries a woman, has children, raises a family, pass on his name. Being gay was an atrocity, it was something that wasn’t well seen, much less accepted in pureblood families.

In fact, not only in pureblood families, but many half-bloods who lived in the wizarding world too. Being gay was taboo, and Draco wasn’t ready to break it yet. And neither was Potter, of course. His best friend, even though he was considered a blood traitor, and considering that the Weasleys were no longer part of the Sacred 28, was still a pureblood, which meant that those traditional thoughts were deeply ingrained in what they were. Potter wasn’t ready to suffer the consequences of coming out to his best friend, and honestly, Draco didn’t care, as long as the agreement continued to be an advantage to himself.

It was obvious that Potter wasn’t the best fuck at school. It was agreed that the sex between them was incredible, and that they both enjoyed it to the fullest, but it wasn’t as if Draco had had a great experience. Neither of them was a virgin before the first time, but as far as he knew, Potter had only had sex with girls - one girl, to be exact. And Draco... Well, there was more than one girl. And a boy when the Triwizard Tournament happened. He was from Durmstrang, and that had been his first time. He was never again able to like girls - or to not feel disgusted at them - but remembering that night, he couldn’t compare to what he had with Potter today.

Still, Draco would sleep constantly wanting Blaise to be gay. He was a stupidly nosy, but he was still a pureblood, he had known him since childhood, and he had said on more than one occasion that he had no intention of marrying and having children at least until he was fifty. To Draco, those were perfect reasons to play and have fun while they didn’t have to marry a respectable witch and live the rest of their sad lives, but Blaise never demonstrated that perhaps he could have some homosexual inclination and Draco would never ask.

In his dormitory, Harry fell asleep almost immediately. He knew Neville and Ron were out there with their respective girlfriends, so it would be a long time before they came into the room. He felt calm when he took off his jeans and changed into pyjama bottoms. His head was light as it always was after sex with Malfoy.

Sometimes it was hard for him to believe that he was having sex with Malfoy, of all people. It was like an addiction he couldn’t control, that he couldn’t stop. He had no love for the Slytherin, but he was completely in love with his arse. Besides all the other advantages of sleeping with him - they didn’t kill themselves in the middle of the corridors, Malfoy knew the importance of keeping a secret and Malfoy didn’t care that he was Harry Potter - Malfoy was hot. Generally speaking, he was exactly what Harry found attractive. A thin, but proportional body. A round arse, long legs, with enough meat for him to press his fingers over. He was small compared to himself. Harry never tired of sucking, biting, touching him. And he was so pale! His nipples were almost the same color as his skin, being a little more rosy than the rest, almost the same colour as his penis and anus. Harry could spend hours with his mouth on him. Not to mention the way Malfoy melted when Harry held him by the waist and threw him on the nearest surface. And his face. Harry found him decidedly handsome, especially when that aristocratic mouth lost its voice because it was filled with his cock.

He smiled, his head light as he leaned against the pillow, feeling as he had never felt in his life. He had no responsibilities, no Dark Lord to kill, no need to worry about whether his friends were safe or not, because he was no longer a risk to the ones he loved. And, well, now he had sex regularly. Malfoy wasn’t his best option, of course, since he was... Well, Malfoy. But considering that Harry had recently discovered that he had a preference for boys - even if he liked girls just the way he had liked before - and he wasn’t willing to go out looking for someone better and risk of having to come out before he was ready. He would be with Malfoy for now - or, rather, have fun with Malfoy - until he fell in love with someone worth coming out to, or a girl.
He slept soundly, and had no nightmares, nor did he hear when his friends returned to the bedroom.

When he went to the Great Hall the next day, side by side with Ron and Hermione, Harry had to fight not to look at Malfoy. They had already arranged what they would do, Harry didn’t need to worry. Expecting to have more sex, however, kept him up all day. He was eighteen, full of hormones. After the Horcrux had been destroyed from his body, he had grown considerably. Finally he was taller than Malfoy, and… bigger than him in several aspects, not just his height. It made him strangely excited. To know that he was strong and tall enough to subdue Malfoy if they both wanted it.

And he knew Malfoy wanted it. He loved rough sex, which was good for Harry, because he loved it, too.

The day has passed without any news. He was going to classes without fear, missions, or secrets – except for his personal secret, which Harry didn’t mind keeping. He smiled whenever he saw Ron and Hermione holding hands, and even more knowing that, despite being obviously boyfriend and girlfriend, they never did anything to make Harry uncomfortable. It was a good thing to know this, to know that his friends still included him in everything, even though they had a life beyond being ‘Harry Potter’s friends’.

As they returned to Eight Year’s Common Room, Harry had a smile on his face. He knew he was closer to the time when he would have a phenomenal orgasm, and he was looking forward to it. Ron, however, couldn’t control himself as they sat by the fireplace.

“Harry, be serious. Who is it?” The redhead asked, and Harry looked at him, feigning confusion.

“Who is who?”

“The person you're shagging,” Ron said, and looked at Hermione for support. Hermione just looked at Harry, waiting. “I know you're dating someone, Harry. I don‘t know why you're keeping it a secret, but I hope you know that I'm not hurt because you broke up with Ginny. I know she's the one who broke up with you.”

“Ron, it's not... Look, it's complicated,” Harry said, turning to face the fireplace. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Harry... You know you can tell us anything, don’t you? Anything.” Hermione tried, touching his knee affectionately.

Harry knew he could count on them for everything. He knew. Ron and Hermione risked their lives for him, went to the end of the world with him. Harry owed those two his life. But this was a secret Harry didn’t know was worth telling. Maybe he would never need to. Why jeopardize such an important friendship to reveal something that might not be a constant part of his life? He liked women, he’d always liked them. He just needed to...wait for an interesting one. One that was strong and brave like Ginny, who had the calm and wisdom of Luna, who had Hermione's intelligence and skill, and fucked like Malfoy. Yeah, definitely one that fucked like Malfoy. So, while that didn’t happen, there was no reason to risk his friendship with his best friends.

“I know, Hermione. But there's really nothing much going on,” Harry assured her, deciding to divert the subject to their herbology essay.

That night, Malfoy arrived late. Harry ended up deciding to go to sleep, even after waiting almost until midnight.

He woke up in the middle of the night with a wonderful feeling of a mouth around his cock. He opened his eyes, half sleepy. The curtains were closed, and it was too dark for him to see anything, but he narrowed his eyes towards his crotch, trying to see something.

Slowly, his vision grew accustomed to the dark, and he could feel perfectly the slide of lips around his cock, coming and going, making his body shiver. He couldn’t see anyone, though. In fact, the entire underside of his body had disappeared, except for his feet, separated, since the person was obviously between his legs.

Harry smiled, reaching out and touching the fabric of his own invisibility cloak. He pushed the cloth back, and Malfoy's blond hair appeared after the hem passed over his head. Malfoy lifted his head, his lips clearly wet. He was so hot in that moment that Harry's cock pulsed involuntarily.

“Hi, Potter.” He nodded, as if Harry was seeing him in class, before he returned to what he was doing.

Harry closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy it. It wasn’t common for Draco Malfoy to put his mouth on him, so Harry let him do what he wanted. He put his hands on Malfoy's hair, following his movements, sighing softly and trying not to moan. He didn’t know if Malfoy had cast a silencing spell and he didn’t want to risk waking his classmates with a groan and having to explain what was happening.

Malfoy couldn’t swallow until the base, but Harry couldn’t tell if it was because he had no practice, or because his cock was too big. Anyway, feeling Malfoy's hand holding where his mouth didn’t reach, tongue licking from base to head to wet him, before swallowing halfway, drove him crazy. Harry could feel his glans press against Malfoy's throat, but he was moving away before Harry could feel it tighten around him.

Still, everything was making him get closer to his climax. The wet noise, the suction, Malfoy’s quick breathing... Harry didn’t notice when his orgasm came, fast, and he didn’t have time to warn him. Malfoy must have noticed by his body reaction, however, because he held him by his thighs and swallowed everything, his lips locked around his cock, his mouth filling with hot liquid.

After what seemed an eternity, and only a few seconds, at the same time, Harry lifted his head. His whole body was still twitching from his orgasm, and he looked at Malfoy, who licked his lips. Uncontrollably, Harry smiled, pulling the cloak to some place near the pillow, just to see that Malfoy was touching himself beneath it, still fully clothed, except for his feet, which were without shoes.

“Turn around. Your turn,” Harry said, and it was Malfoy's turn to smile, doing exactly what Harry said.

That night, Harry took the cloak back. He planned something for the next day, as he did sometimes, and Malfoy raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, but didn’t make a question. He knew that Potter wanted to find him between classes, as he did when he kept the cloak. Harry led him into the bathroom under his cloak, then returned to his bedroom and let Malfoy do whatever he wanted to do. Now he was going to sleep, and probably dream of the moment when Malfoy could get him into his throat.

The next morning, Draco was walking towards the Great Hall, thinking about how to cover the last 10 centimetres of parchment he needed to deliver on Magical Theory when he felt someone push him against the wall. Since returning to Hogwarts, Draco had acquired the habit of walking with his head down. It avoided problems in general, but not completely. When he felt his back hit the wall, for a moment he thought it was Potter. But when he looked up, he saw a Gryffindor boy, seventh year. He didn’t remember his name, but he didn’t care. He was an ugly jerk, and Draco put his disdain mask on.

“What a little ponce like you is doing here alone, Malfoy?” he asked, and Draco sighed, smiling sideways at him.

“Interested? I didn’t know you liked these type of things, even though I don’t like it much myself,” He said, and it made the boy tighten his grip on his stomach, making him wince a little.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Everyone knows you're the biggest arse boy in school. You, and the guy you're fucking with. Come on, who is he? Maybe we can play a little game with you,” The Gryffindor spoke, and only now Draco realised that there were two more guys with him, both from Hufflepuff.

“How about you bring your boyfriend over and we'll talk? Just because you do these things it doesn’t mean that everyone does it, you know?” Draco taunted, feeling like a hypocrite. But when he was not?

That earned him a punch, and Draco felt his legs weaken. He couldn’t fight back. If he retaliated, he knew it would be his fault, and he would be expelled, and any chance of surviving in the world out there as a former death eater would be zero. Before the Gryffindor could strike another blow against his face, Draco heard a voice in the distance, which prevented the seventh-year from continuing.

Draco turned his face to see who it was. Blaise was in front of him, wand pointed at the other three's faces, speaking something so low that Draco couldn’t hear. Blaise had the advantage of not having the Dark Mark on his arm, and therefore couldn’t be blamed for defending himself or a friend.

The three idiots left, looking at them sideways, but not before shouting,

“Go on, protect your ponce friend! You're just like him, aren’t you, Zabini? Maybe you’re fucking now that you have a room just for you two.” It was one of the hufflepuffs who shouted, and Blaise ignored it, rolling his eyes.

Blaise held out a hand to Draco, who accepted it and got pulled up. Blaise studied his face before declaring.

“It's going to turn purple, but apparently they didn’t break anything.”

Draco sighed, feeling the sharp pain in his face, but ignoring it. They walked quietly into the hall, until Blaise broke the silence.

“Is it true what he said? About you being...?”

Draco stopped pacing, turning to Blaise almost aggressively.

“What do you think?” he asked defiantly, and Blaise only shrugged, moving on. He didn’t bring it up again, and Draco also decided to ignore it. It was better for everyone.

That wasn’t the first time that something like this happened. Nor the last one. His rendez-vous with Potter were a way to escape the reality that had become his during the school days. When Potter saw the attacks happening, he would try to protect him, and in those days, Draco refused to meet with Potter. Their relationship was purely sexual. He had no interest in Potter becoming his guard dog.

Weston, Devon and Williamson, the three who attacked him that day in the corridor, only became more direct during the weeks that passed. Draco knew they weren’t the only ones who thought that way, and that's why only Blaise and Potter - and obviously Potter’s watchdogs - stood by him. Potter, he understood why he was protecting him. In addition to being Harry Potter, he also committed the same crimes as Draco. But Blaise, Weasley, and Granger? As far as Draco knew, Blaise Zabini was as traditional as all other purebloods, just like Weasley. Draco doubted Granger would know of Potter's activities under the invisibility cloak, and honestly Draco hoped it would continue this way.

The months passed quickly for Harry. Before he noticed, it was November, and for months now, he and Malfoy were meeting at night - sometimes in the daytime as well. But that was irrelevant. It was already cold outside, and Harry was feeling happy. Cold meant the Christmas holidays were coming, which meant he was going to spend a whole month at the Weasley's, and that was what he liked to do more than play Quidditch.

That day he was planning to find Malfoy between classes, so his cloak was in his backpack. He went to breakfast, talking animatedly to Ron about the next Gryffindor game. They, as eight-years, couldn’t participate in the game, but were there to watch in all matches. Ginny was a great team captain, and the new Keeper and Seeker were good. Hermione, who liked the games, but not enough to argue about them, just listened in silence.

They sat at the table, which they shared with the other fifteen eight-years, who for convenience still wore the colors of their own houses. Harry casually glanced around the table, eyes reaching for Malfoy, and finding him between Blaise and Zacharias Smith. Malfoy seemed to be concentrating on eating the sandwich in front of him, and Harry quickly returned to the conversation with Ron and Hermione. These small glances in the morning told him whether it was okay to look for Malfoy in the afternoon. If he was very agitated, it usually meant he had no interest. He appeared calm, so it seemed safe for Harry to find him afterwards.

That calm didn’t last ten minutes. Some Gryffindor boys came to their table, as if they were prepared to create trouble. The teachers weren’t at the main table, so they had nothing to fear. Harry watched as Weston, along with two other guys from Ginny’s year approached Malfoy, taking advantage of the empty space that was in front of him, across the table.

Harry couldn’t understand all the words, but he heard clearly when the word ‘faggot’ was uttered. His blood boiled, and he rose, unable to control himself. After that, the confusion was widespread. Zacharias Smith had to leave the table when his juice glass fell over his trousers, and the others stood up, including Malfoy, to shout at the seventh-year boys. Except for Blaise, who was looking at everything with a serious expression. Harry noticed when he pulled his wand from inside his sleeve. As it had happened before, he knew Blaise was ready to help his friend.

Weston pulled Malfoy by his collar, and that was when Harry lost track of what was happening. He pulled Weston away from Malfoy as Dean and Seamus pushed the other two. Harry took no punches - no one risked hitting the Chosen, not after he had defeated Voldemort - but he pushed Weston so hard that he staggered against the wall, glaring at him.

“Why do you stand up for him, Potter? In addition to being a ponce, he is a Death Eater. Why do you waste your energy with him?” Weston asked, and Harry swallowed the answer he wanted to give him. Instead, he climbed onto the bench, then on the table. He brought his wand to his own neck, murmuring a ‘sonorus’ and speaking out loud.

“It's because of people like you, Weston, that Voldemort had so many followers,” he said, and Weston shivered at the name. “Are you afraid of his name, Weston? Incredible, because you are doing exactly what Voldemort wanted. Inciting anger and aggression because you can’t accept anyone who is different from yourself. Spreading lies and fake news about people to belittle them and show that you are better. You say you hate Death Eaters, but you're doing exactly the same thing they did. You disgust me, Weston,” Harry said, undoing the spell and getting off the table. Hermione touched his shoulder, a proud smile on her face. Ron clapped, and was immediately followed by most of the students around.

Weston looked at Harry with hate in his eyes, but Harry’s glare didn’t falter.

“You think you’re special, Potter. And maybe you are. But you don’t know who you are protecting, and soon enough, you will see that he isn’t worth it,” Weston threatened, turning his eyes to Malfoy, who just took his own glass of juice, as if nothing had happened, and drank it at once.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh when Malfoy casually commented,“What a horrible beverage!”

Later that day, Harry knew the news had spread. Apparently, Weston and his other Gryffindor classmates had been called into the headmistress' office and would have to complete hours of detention after the classes because of the trouble. That made Harry even more excited.

Almost late in the afternoon, he took the map when he went to the bathroom, and looked for Malfoy's name. He was conveniently near the Quidditch pitch. Harry closed the map, covered himself with the cloak, and followed him.

It took a few minutes for Harry to arrive, but it was nothing for what he intended to do. He approached Malfoy, who was reading, leaning against the back of the grandstand, and crouched down beside him.

“Psst. Hey.” Harry looked around before lifting the cloak at the same time Malfoy turned his face to him. Harry rearranged the cloak behind him, leaning against the stand as well, pointing to his legs so Malfoy would sit on them.

Malfoy just looked around to see if anyone was close. He put the bookmark into the book and shrunk it down, putting it into his pocket. He straddled Harry's legs, cuddling over him as if he had a lot of practice - maybe he did, and Harry crossed his legs under Malfoy’s arse to cut down on the occupied space. He threw the cloak over them and quickly opened the blond's shirt. He'd been thinking about it since morning, and his mouth salivated at the sight of Malfoy's pale chest.

“Good afternoon,” Harry said, opening his shirt completely and running his fingers over Malfoy's nipples.

“Is this one of those days?” Malfoy asked, giving Potter free access to his chest, and Harry smirked. ‘Those days’ were days when Harry played with Malfoy’s body, and in return, he let Malfoy play with his, later.

“You bet,” Harry said, holding him by the waist and taking one of Malfoy’s nipples into his mouth. Malfoy moaned softly, hugging Harry's head with his arms.

Harry smiled against his chest, closing his eyes as he started sucking, licking as he wanted. Harry loved to do that, and apparently Malfoy loved to receive it. His nipples were sensitive, and they swelled easily, making them even more delicious under Harry's lips. He hugged Malfoy's waist, his hard cock beneath the Slytherin's layers of fabric and ass. He felt Malfoy’s legs tremble over his.

“Sensitive?” Harry asked, pulling his head away just to kiss the other nipple, making Malfoy moan softly, his mouth against his hair.

“Today they are... Hnn... Too sensitive... More than usual...” Malfoy muttered, at the same time Harry gave a particularly strong suck, making him moan loudly. Harry pulled away, drawing his wand and casting a silencing spell around them. He put his wand back, sucking on Malfoy’s nipples slowly once again.

This was an art for Harry, and an art he’d mastered. His tongue circled around the little bud, and his teeth tightened on the pink button, pulling it out before he sucked it again. Harry wrapped his lips around the gradually darkening nipple and sucked, as a baby would, before pressing the hard nub with his tongue. Saliva flowed down his chest, but Malfoy didn’t seem to care.

Harry switched from one nipple to the other, unhurriedly, taking advantage of the sensations of Malfoy’s nipples under his tongue, between his lips. He was so hard that he was afraid to come just by doing it. Malfoy wriggled on top of him, looking for some friction, and Harry gave him some, squeezing the other's hard cock over his clothes. Malfoy let out a relieved sigh, his head dropping back. His hair was messed up from the cloak, but that was the least important.

As he pulled his head away, licking his lips, Harry paused to look at the work he had done on Malfoy’s chest. Malfoy’s nipples were swollen, painted in a pink so deep that it made Harry's cock throb just to look at them.

“So beautiful...” Harry murmured, lifting his hand that wasn’t pressing against Malfoy’s cock and holding the left nipple between his fingers, pulling on the abused flesh and making Malfoy shiver all over, his eyes turning under his eyelids. “Do you like it?” Harry's voice was so hoarse he could barely make out the words.

Malfoy didn’t answer. He hardly answered when Harry talked dirty to him, but he nodded, pulling Harry's head to his chest once more. Harry was quick to obey.

Harry lost track of time as he played with Malfoy's nipples, but it was at least forty minutes. The sun was already turning orange, and Malfoy jerked in his lap whenever Harry's lips touched his nipples.

“It's... Too much... I can’t...” Malfoy tried to say, but he pushed his chest into Harry's face whenever the Gryffindor stopped. Harry felt his jaw start to ache, and decided it was time to relieve Malfoy's body. He opened Malfoy’s flies and held his cock, which, even though was hard, fit almost completely in his hand, only the head coming out from the closed channel of his fingers and palm. Harry wanked him once, twice, and in the third, sucked particularly hard on his right nipple, which made Malfoy come undone in his hand, moaning loudly, shaking from head to toe. Malfoy's arms pressed Harry's head against his own chest, his hips moving to aid in the movements of Harry's hand.

His orgasm lasted for long seconds, and then he fell, almost lifeless, over Harry's body. Harry hadn’t come, but he didn’t care. He was so pleased to have done that, that he wouldn’t mind if it was it for today. He picked up his wand once more, cleaning them both, and began righting Malfoy's clothes. The blond simply let him, eyes closed, his breathing slow. He moaned softly as the shirt closed over his sensitive chest, and finally he opened his eyes, looking at Harry.

“Tonight?” he asked, and Harry nodded.

“Prefects' bathroom at ten?” Harry suggested, and Malfoy just nodded. They made sure no one around - or far away – could see them, and Malfoy stepped out from under his cloak, sitting down again.

Draco watched the grass flatten lightly as Potter walked away, and picked up his book once more, bringing it back to its original size. For some reason, he loved Potter's obsession with his nipples, but now they were sensitive, and the contact of the clothes with them made an electric wave pass through his body.

Over time, the sensitivity begun diminishing, but not totally. As a result, when he arrived in the prefects' bathroom that night, Draco had spent the whole day half-hard. He went in and locked the door, tossing his backpack aside and looking around. Potter suddenly appeared from under his cloak. He was waiting near the huge bathtub, already completely naked and very, very hard.

Draco swallowed, eyes staring at Potter's erection, impressive and appetising.

“On all fours. I haven’t finished playing with you yet,” Potter said, and as much as he wanted to say something aggressive, Draco knew what was awaiting him, and his cock knew it too.

Without waiting, he began to take off his own clothes, folding them and setting them aside. His nipples were still dark-pink, a little swollen from the earlier treatment they’d received. Draco threw a cushioning spell on the floor in front of Potter and got on all fours. He rested his elbows on the floor and rested his forehead on his forearms, which made his ass rise up high. His legs were open, and he felt his cheeks heat because of how he was exposed, but his cock was now completely hard with anticipation.

He felt a spell take over his body, especially between his buttocks, and he immediately felt lighter and cleaner. A cleansing spell, then. Potter knelt behind him, and Draco turned his head as much as he could, seeing him only partially. Potter didn’t say anything - he didn’t have to - and opened his arse-cheeks.

Harry grunted softly, kissing his arse and rubbing his thumb lightly against his hole.

“Did you prepare yourself before you came?” Potter asked, the tip of his finger slipping in so easily into Draco's body that Draco groaned in surprise.

“N-No...” Draco admitted, and shivered as he felt Potter's finger pushing in completely. He would normally feel a sting, but now it slid through, as if Draco was just waiting for it.

“Fuck... It seems like you’re... wet inside...” Potter muttered, pulling his finger nearly all the way out before thrusting in again. “It's going in so easily, Malfoy... You were dying for it, weren’t you? You spent the whole day thinking about the time when I would fuck your tight little arse, didn’t you...?”

“Potter... Jus ... Hn... Put it in...” He tried to sound angry, but Potter just laughed. He knew how much Draco liked to hear those obscenities.

Potter, however, seemed to be in his own world. He held both of Draco's arse-cheeks, his finger coming out from inside him, and he replaced the digit with his mouth. Draco moaned loudly, hiding his face in his arms, and closed his eyes, feeling that wonderful sensation spread through his body. How Potter had such skill he didn’t know, but he intended to take full advantage of it. Potter kissed and sucked almost the same way he did with his nipples, but he also thrust his tongue through the small entrance, fucking him with the wet muscle. He was slipping in so easily that Draco wondered if he really wanted it as much as it seemed, and the pleasure was so intense, his body so sensitive, he couldn’t think.

Potter took his own sweet time, fucking him with his tongue, licking and sucking that delicate part of him. He pulled away after a good ten minutes, breathing heavily, his hands still opening Draco so he could see him stretched out.

“You should see how loose you already are, Malfoy... Winking, so eager to have my cock opening you... So rosy and tasty...” He brought his mouth closer once more, his tongue sliding in almost completely, only being restrained by the limitation of Potter's teeth, which brushed lightly on his perineum.

Draco could only moan softly, knowing that he could come at any moment. He was so sensitive that day, and he had no idea why. Potter stepped away, and Draco remained in the same position. He heard the tube of lubricant being opened, and he held his breath in preparation to what was to come. Potter stuffed two fingers in him all at once, the slide a little more difficult, but they slipped all the way into his body anyway.

“Aaah...! Malfoy, are you sure... Fuck... Fuck, are you sure you haven’t prepared yourself before?” Potter's voice faltered, and he was hoarse. Draco felt his thighs shaking. “Fuck... You're dripping wet...!”

He said it as his fingers went deep into Draco’s body, pounding against his prostate. Draco screamed, his hands pulling his hair, the need to come growing even more.

“Come on, Potter... Hurry up...” Draco begged, and Potter removed his fingers, a little unsure.

“It was just... Just two...” Potter reasoned. Usually, Draco needed three or four fingers to be really prepared, but Draco could feel his body stretched, pulsing, trying to close, without success.

“Fuck me already, Potter,” Draco whispered, leaning his body on his own chest, reaching back and holding himself open. He held his arse cheeks hard, and Draco knew he was obscenely open. He could feel it. “Put your cock in me, stuff it balls deep and fuck me until I pass out, Potter. Fuck. Me.”

Potter thrusted in so fast that Draco had to pull his hands away and prop them to the ground because of the impact, which jolted him forward. Potter held onto his hips, pulling out almost to the end and shoving in hard, his cock slamming inside with a wet noise. Draco could feel it as the lube oozed out from his body, and that, along with the feeling of being stretched to the max, with Potter's cock deep inside him, carried him to the apex. Draco came so hard that his legs slid down, and he lay flat on the floor. Potter slipped along with him, not taking his cock out, and fucked him through his orgasm. The cold floor made gave his cock a thermal shock, and he screamed so loudly that he felt his voice tear. Potter pulled him up by his waist and fucked him fast, brutally. Draco scratched at the floor for purchase. It seemed like his orgasm would never end, and he felt his heart beating too fast. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and even when there was no more spunk to release, Draco seemed to be still coming, dry.

If it was possible, he could swear he was coming from his anus, squeezing around Potter like a cunt would.

That was too much for Potter, who filled him with warm liquid, his hands tightening on his thighs with such force that Draco was sure it was going to turn purple.

Potter lay on top of him without pulling out, his breath erratic. They spent a few minutes there, and Draco admitted that he liked the feeling of being squished by Potter's weight. It was strangely sexual.

Draco grinned as he felt Potter grow hard again without even pulling out.

“Again?” Potter asked, and Draco only moved his arse against his groin as an answer.

They did it three times that night. Potter only came twice, but Draco lost count of how many orgasms he had, all of them much more intense than usual. Maybe Potter was particularly good that day, or Draco was particularly sensitive. He didn’t know, but it had been one of the best nights since they'd started that little rendez-vous. When he went to bed, Draco was so tired that Blaise had to wake him up the next day. This didn’t happen normally.

“Are you all right, Draco?” Blaise asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, just... Tired,” Draco answered, and Blaise raised an eyebrow.

“Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, and Draco smiled, sitting down.

“Nothing much. I’ve only been in the prefects' bath tub until late,” Draco replied, running his hand over his face. “Thank you for waking me up.”

“You're welcome. We have forty minutes until the first lesson. If you want to eat something, you'd better hurry,” Blaise said, walking out of the dorm, already fully dressed.

The days after that were pretty normal. After Potter's ‘lecture’ in the Great Hall, physical harassment ended, but the verbal continued as usual. Draco learned to ignore them. He continued to meet Potter as usual, and the strange thing was that his nipples remained extremely sensitive - and he couldn’t hold himself together for long before he came all over himself. It was a hot little pain whenever Potter wrapped his mouth on his nipples, and Potter took advantage of this constantly.

November was over, and December came along with snow. Draco was eager to go home, even if it meant to stay for a month without sex. It was not exactly a problem, since he would have it back often when he returned to school. After his father's arrest, Draco and Narcissa left Malfoy Manor to live in a slightly more humble home in Devon. It was still huge, with seven rooms, three living rooms, a ballroom, a parlour, two kitchens, dining rooms and a large garden, but it wasn’t the Manor. Anyway, the place didn’t have the terrible memories that their old house now contained.

The day before they took the train, Draco and Harry had a night alone. Unusually, they faced each other, and Potter kept kissing him. Draco didn’t complain. Potter had a sweet, possessive kiss, just like everything they did together. But it wasn’t common for them to spend so much time kissing. Draco felt strangely emotional about it, and even after they had come together, Draco spent a few more minutes sitting on his lap, kissing him.

They said goodbye with a simple ‘See you next year’.

When Draco changed to his regular clothes, hours before the train arrived, he was surprised. His trousers were tight. He went to the mirror, looking at himself and turning aside to see some difference. It didn’t look like there was any.

“What happened?” Blaise asked. The boy was putting away his last belongings in his trunk.

“Does it look like I gained weight?” Draco asked, turning to Blaise and opening his arms.

“You look the same.”

“Hm,” Draco turned back to the mirror, narrowing his eyes. Maybe his trousers just got tighter. The elves must have done something wrong. Draco shrugged, pulling on a shirt and grimacing. His nipples, on the other hand, were still too sensitive. He ran his fingers over them, trying to flatten them up, and slipped his jumper over his shirt. With everything on his trunk, he read for some time, until it was time to leave.

Nothing unusual happened, at least in the early days. He came home, greeted his mother, and slept on her bed on the first day. Draco was always very close to his mother, and after his father's arrest, they were even closer. After the first day, he returned to his bedroom. They set up the Christmas tree and decorated the front of the house.

“Draco, did you gain weight?” his mother asked one day when Draco took off his wet jumper from when he went to wash his hands in the garden.

“Hmm... A little, I think. Can you tell?” he asked, and she nodded.

“You look healthier. You’re handsome,” Narcissa commented, and Draco smiled, kissing her on the top of her head.

His mother, very observant, was always the first to notice everything. From the way he'd twisted his nose at the fish he'd always loved, or the way he looked more cranky in the mornings.

“Is there something wrong, dear?” she asked one day.

“Nothing, just... A little sick in the stomach. It's happening more often. I think it's something the elves are putting in the food,” Draco explained, and Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

“Do you need me to call for a healer?”

“No, mother. It's all right. I'll just be careful with what I eat now.”

Draco couldn’t avoid a healer for too long, though. Especially when he began to vomit during the day, and to feel unexplained headaches.

Healer Wivern was an old family friend, a loyal friend of his parents. Even after the Malfoy name ceased to be a status symbol, he remained present. Healing, he said, only worked with those who were sick. And the Malfoys needed healing from a long time ago. At that moment, Draco just hoped he could help him and make all this discomfort go away.

After at least fifteen minutes of analysis, the healer's wand gushing flashes of light over him, the man frowned, and looked at Draco seriously.

“Mrs. Malfoy, I think I need to talk to young Malfoy alone,” Wivern said, and Narcissa frowned.

“But what happened...?”

“What happened?” Draco asked at the same time as his mother, sitting up in bed. His heart pounded, and he felt the desperation rise in his throat. “Am I dying?”

“You’re not dying, Mr. Malfoy. But it's a... sensitive subject. Maybe you won’t want to talk about it in front of your mother,” the healer advised, and Draco folded his arms.

“There's nothing I can’t tell my mother.” Draco's face was serious, though there were things he wouldn’t risk telling his mother.

“All right. Mr. Malfoy, you're seven weeks pregnant,” said Wivern. “It is a baby of magical strength almost completely formed, but not totally. The potion you have taken must have been particularly strong, for the magical womb is perfectly formed and protected. It has no magic flaws, and I believe that if you decide to keep the pregnancy to term, it will remain like any normal pregnancy.”

Draco felt himself freeze as the healer spoke. Unable to control himself, he mumbled lost words. He didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t possible…

“Pregnant? Seven weeks? What... I... I didn’t drink any potions!” He almost screamed the last sentence, turning his eyes almost desperately to his mother.

Narcissa stared at him in shock. The woman's pale hands were over her mouth, and she had tears in her eyes.

“Mother! Mother, I didn’t... I didn’t take any potions, I swear... I didn’t... I didn’t!” Draco felt his own eyes fill with tears, which fell when his mother rose from her chair and left the room, leaving Draco alone with the healer.

“You didn’t drink any potions to induce your fertility? You know... Young Malfoy, you're a man... It's impossible to have a pregnancy without…”

“I am fully aware that it's impossible!” Draco shouted, running his hands over his cheeks to wipe the tears. “Explain to me how this could have happened? How? I didn’t... He didn’t…”

“Have you been having sex with another man these last few months?” Wivern asked, and Draco took at least a long time to nod.

“But I didn’t drink any potions. I didn’t... I didn’t plan to ever have to tell anyone that I…” Draco lifted his knees, hugging them and resting his chin on them. “Am I really...?”

“Yes. The foetus is growing healthy. It‘s a baby of very strong magic,” the healer said, and Draco snorted. Of course. “You can still... You can still have an abortion, if you’d like. Does the other father know? Did he…”

“No. He would never do that without my permission. He didn’t want us to be discovered either,” Draco said, thinking of Potter. He couldn’t just tell Potter that he was pregnant. He was sure Potter wouldn’t give him a potion of this kind, so it could only have been someone who knew he was having sex with a man, or suspected it. Potter would never believe it, of course. As much as they didn’t talk, Draco knew that Harry Potter hated attention. He would think Draco had done it on purpose to gain something, and Draco would have to live with this baby and Potter's hatred.

He might not love the Gryffindor, but the truth was that he didn’t want to hate him again. The ideal thing would be to simply stay away from him.

That thought brought tears to his eyes. Hell, why was he crying over everything? It must be the damn intruder he now knew was in his body. He just hoped his mother would forgive him for it.

“I can’t... I can’t kill this baby,” Draco said softly.

“It’s not yet a fully formed baby. It is still unable to feel pain,” the healer explained, but Draco shook his head.

“I'd rather be a ponce, the father of a bastard son, than be a murderer,” Draco said, and looked up at the healer. In his gaze, there was determination. He hated the expectation of having to come out of the closet, of having to face a world that hated what he was. Draco hated who he was. If he could be born again, he would choose not to be gay, to not have to deal with the mental torture of it everyday. If he could be born again, Draco would choose to be heterosexual, to be an example, to be... Only to be different from what he was now. Potter could at least choose not to be with a man. Draco was his plaything, his hobby. And Potter was Draco's hobby... Until now. “Am I going to have to take something?” he asked at last. He knew he would have to deal with it one way or another. He'd rather be practical. He could cry after the healer left.

“Yes. A few potions to keep your strength and magic. You will feel tired, you may need some vitamins. I'll make you a list and you can ask for the products by owl. They can be...disguised as other potions if you want to keep it a secret from your friends. But it won’t last long. Soon, everyone will realise.”

“Glamour?” Draco asked, and he didn’t like the healer's expression.

“It's a male pregnancy. Unlike a female pregnancy, where only the mother is needed to keep the baby alive, in your pregnancy you are dealing with parts that are not natural to your body and will consume your energy to stay alive. Any kind of long-lasting magic, such as Glamours, for example, can be fatal to your magical energy. And if you lose your magical energy, you might lose the baby,” he said, and Draco cursed softly.

The man sat at his desk writing on a parchment for a few minutes. He made a copy using his wand and handed one of the parchments to Draco.

“I'm going to deliver this one here to your mother.” The healer stood up, picking up his supplies and heading for the door. “And, Mr Malfoy? You are not a ‘ponce’. Being gay is not a sin. It may even be mistreated in the society in which we live. But until last year, Harry Potter was known as The Undesirable No. One.” Wivern smiled, and Draco laughed with unexpected sympathy. “Would you like me to send you a letter about your situation for the Hogwarts Mediwitch? It would be ideal for them to be informed in advance.”

“I’d be grateful,” Draco said, and the man only nodded before leaving.

Draco lay there for a long time. He didn’t feel hungry or cold, only despair that was growing slowly within him. Tears fell slowly, and his body trembled with restrained sobs, but he resisted as much as he could. He put a hand to his stomach, as if he could feel the baby inside. He was expecting Potter's child. If it wasn’t so tragic, he'd be laughing.

He woke up in the middle of the night with his door opening. He turned his face to it, and it was his mother. Her wand was lit, and her eyes were red and swollen, probably from crying. Slowly, she approached his bed, lying next to Draco and touching his face.

“My dear boy…” Narcissa murmured, and it was enough for Draco to fall once again into a sobbing mess. He hugged her, hiding his face in her chest, trembling.

“Mother, forgive me! I didn’t ... I didn’t want to disappoint you... I didn’t want to be…”

“Shhh... Shh, my darling, you're not a disappointment. You are not.” She cupped his face, wiping his cheeks. “I'm not going to pretend I understand you, Draco. I will not lie and say that this is easy for me. It isn’t. But I've learned a few things since the war, and one of them is the size of my love for you. You are my son, Draco. I'll love you no matter what. But... I wish I had discovered it some other way.”

“I... I was so afraid, Mother... So afraid to say and…”

“I know. I know, my dear. But I am here. And I'll take care of you, and I'll take care of your baby when it comes. We will never tear our family apart again. We will never hurt our family again. Never.” She hugged him tightly, and Draco hugged her back.

They embraced each other for a long time, their hearts beating together. Draco was almost as sleep when she asked,“Who's the father, Draco? Do I know him?”

Draco laughed, lifting his head. “Yes. But he doesn’t know. And I won’t force him to reveal his secret as I'm going to be forced to reveal mine. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Narcissa looked at him for a few seconds, considering his words before speaking. “But he will know. When he sees you, after a few months. He will know.”

Draco shrugged. “But by then, I'll be so far away he won’t remember me. Maybe he’ll think it’s someone else’s.” He wasn’t going to force it on Potter, because he knew how Potter would react, and Draco didn’t want to be an obligation.

“If he attracted your attention, Draco, I don’t think he'll forget that easily,” Narcissa said, smoothing her son's hair, pushing them off his forehead.

Draco stared at her for a few seconds, biting his lower lip. “He won’t. He won’t forget. And that scares me,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “But, Mother... We weren’t lovers. I don’t know how that could happen. Neither I nor him wanted that. Nobody wanted that. Who could have given me this potion? He's powerful, but I don’t think he'd be strong enough to get me pregnant without a potion…”

“Powerful, is he?” Narcissa raised an eyebrow, as if she knew who the person was.

“Mother, please. This is the only secret I really need to keep from you. Don’t make me lie,” he beseeched, and from the gleam in Narcissa's gaze, Draco knew she was almost certain who the child's other father was. But Draco knew his mother wouldn’t act against him. Not now that she already knew his deepest secret. She was suffering because of it, he knew. Being gay was a taboo, something he shouldn’t even be talking about, but now she knew it, and she loved him anyway.

Draco closed his eyes and, despite the tightness in his throat, he slept peacefully, once again in his mother's arms.

---

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he was more excited than ever. A month living with the Weasleys was pretty much the only thing he'd ever wanted since he was eleven. Fortunately, things weren’t so strange with Ginny, and he could even talk to her new boyfriend, an American named Jonathan.

After Ginny had broken up with him, Harry had been devastated for a few weeks. But he understood the reason for the separation. He wasn’t the same person he was before the war, and neither was Ginny. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted, and she... Well, Ginny wanted the world. The UK was no longer enough for her. And Harry was happy for her. Getting a boyfriend from America was just one of the things she did. He was a wizard, and they wrote to each other most of the year, but as far as Harry knew, she was planning on travelling with him as soon as the school year was over.

Mrs. Weasley wasn’t exactly happy about it.

Anyway, Harry started his first day at Hogwarts practically jumping out of bed. He went to breakfast talking to Seamus and Dean about what they did on their vacation - apparently they'd spent half of their vacation in each other's house, and Harry's cheeks ached with laughter at Seamus's stories.

He reached the table, and looked for Malfoy as usual. He wasn’t there, but Blaise Zabini was, talking quietly to Padma Patil, who nodded fiercely. Harry was surprised, but ignored them for the time being.

Malfoy didn’t show up for classes either. Harry was surprised, but tried to tamp down the urge to search for him. He could get through the day without seeing Malfoy.

Sometime after dinner, Malfoy finally appeared, coming in through the doorway of the eighth-year Common Room. He had a bag of potions with him, and he looked tired. Harry looked away, even though he wanted to get up and go after him. What was happening? It shouldn’t bother him, but Harry wasn’t exactly rational about Malfoy.

He noticed that he was shaking one of his legs only when Hermione grabbed his knee.

“Harry, is everything okay?” she asked, and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, just... Thinking about how I have to wait until July to get rid of Potions,” he said, and she shook her head, as if he were an idiot.

Harry couldn’t wait to go after Malfoy.

With an excuse that he was going to the restroom, Harry went upstairs to his bedroom and took out the Invisibility Cloak. He swung it on and checked if Blaise was around but saw that he was in the Common Room, still talking to Padma, too close to look like he was getting ready to go into the dormitory.

He headed to the room Malfoy shared with Zabini and knocked on the door three times.

“Malfoy, it's me. Can you open the door?” he called, but he didn’t hear an answer. “Malfoy?”

“Go away, Potter,” he heard from inside, and felt his heart clench strangely. There was something in Malfoy's voice telling him plainly that something was wrong.

“Malfoy, do you need any help?” Harry tried again. “Did someone hurt you? I saw that... that you have some potions,” he adds, trying the door lock, to find it locked.

“Potter, I'm fine. I don’t want to have sex today, so you can leave. When I want, I'll send you a message,” Malfoy said, and it seemed closer to the door now. Harry wanted to say something else, insist, but decided it was best not to.

“Promise?” Harry asked, and he wanted to swallow the words as they came out of his mouth.

“Miss me much, Potter?” Malfoy's tone sounded amused and that brought a smile to his lips.

“Perhaps. Promise or not?”

“I promise I'll send you a message whenever I want it, Potter. Now leave me alone. I have things to do,” Malfoy said purposefully, and Harry sighed, returning to his own room.

He had just put the cloak back into his trunk when Ron came in the door, Hermione chuckling softly behind him.

“Hm... Harry... We…” Ron blushed, and Harry laughed.

“As long as Hermione is the one to cast silencio, I'm not even here,” Harry said, and Hermione laughed more openly. Ron choked on his own saliva, and Harry decided to spend some time in front of the fireplace.

Malfoy didn’t send him any messages in the first week. Nor in the second. Not even in the third. Starting the fourth week, Harry was about to do something crazy. It wasn’t just about sex - something Harry was missing every day, every hour, every minute - it wasn’t just that. There was something wrong with Malfoy.

He was tired, though his hair still looked extremely soft;it was noticeable even from a distance. He had flushed cheeks, and bright eyes. He had obviously gained some weight during the holidays, and his face wasn’t as pointy as it had been when they’d said goodbye the day before they left for the holidays. Harry found him more handsome with each passing day, and to make it all worse, Malfoy seemed to avoid him like the plague.

Harry couldn’t bear it any longer. That day he took advantage of a moment when Ron and Hermione had decided to disappear somewhere to date alone to get the map and his cloak. First, he took the Marauder’s Map and sat down on his bed. This could be a time-consuming process, so he preferred to look up names while sitting.

He opened the map, looking at Malfoy's favourite places first. He wasn’t in the library or in the Potions classroom. He wasn’t in the dungeons, he wasn’t in the bathrooms, he wasn’t in the Astronomy Tower. His eyes darted past the Quidditch field area, and Harry smiled when he saw him in the same place he liked to sit and read.

But there was something different about Malfoy's name. In fact, with the footprints that identified him as a person.

Harry took off his glasses, wiping them off to see if he was seeing right. He drew the map closer to his face, narrowing his eyes. No, he really was seeing right. Near the feet that marked Malfoy, there were another pair of feet, very small, that walked with Malfoy every time he moved. An unnamed mark.

Harry spent so much time looking at the map that he was startled when Hermione entered the room, alone.

“Ron... Forgot his backpack,” she said, her cheeks pink. She looked rather mussed up, but Harry couldn’t think about these things right now.

“Hermione. Come here,” he called, showing the map and pointing where Malfoy was. “What... What do you think this is?”

Hermione came over, sitting next to Harry and turning her head slightly sideways. She studied the drawing for a few minutes before turning her face to Harry.

“I... I think... But it's not possible…” she trailed off, and Harry waved his hands at her so she would elaborate. “The map shows all people, right? I mean, it showed Peter when he was disguised as Wormtail... It seems here... It seems that Malfoy is carrying a baby. A baby still unnamed, as if he were pregnant. Remember when in the sixth year Giovanna Mignonette became pregnant of her boyfriend and we discovered that they were having twins by looking at the map? The drawing was exactly like that, except that... with more feet.”

Harry looked at the map, startled. No. It couldn’t be. If it was, Malfoy would have told him, wouldn’t he?

“Is it possible... Is it possible for a man to become pregnant?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione's brown eyes.

“Well, yes. You see, Malfoy would have to be too brave to do this to himself. I mean, get pregnant. Because there's only one way for a man to get pregnant in the wizarding world, and it is by taking a particularly strong fertility potion. It magically recreates a womb, and feeds on the wizard's life force. He would have to be taking dozens of potions to withstand the exhaustion,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “You saw how he's being treated in the hallways. You saw what almost happened in the Great Hall with Weston. Only a madman would have a baby in his situation.”

“What if... What if he didn’t do it on purpose. I mean... Is it possible that they forced him to do this?” Harry asked, startled.

“Well... It's possible,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Many people would love to see him embarrassed in front of the other students. I mean, I find it horrible the way they treat him; you shouldn’t judge someone by their sexual preference, but Malfoy is... Well, he's obviously gay. And exposing this secret would be a healthy joke for many idiots in this school.”

“But that... But this is a tremendous bodily violation! I mean, how could anyone think about doing this...?” Harry tried to understand everything that was happening, and Hermione shrugged.

“I don’t know, Harry. What I know is that a lot of people hate Malfoy, and some of them are justified in doing so. Let's just hope he is very in love with someone and has decided to have a child with that person even knowing the consequences. The possibility of the second option is... Scary, to say the least. His life will never be the same after having a baby.” She got up, approaching Ron's bed and taking his backpack by the handle, turning to Harry. “You won’t judge him, will you?”

“Of course not, Hermione!” Harry was quick to reply, shaking his head. “I would never…”

“That's good, Harry. He's going to have enough trouble already. We don’t need to add more homophobic people to mistreat him,” she said, and left the room, heading to wherever she’d left Ron.

Harry was left behind with his mind in an uproar. His hands shook and he couldn’t think straight. If what Hermione had said was true... If it was true, then was it possible that Malfoy was expecting his child? As far as he knew, Malfoy wasn’t involved with anyone but him. Could it have happened during the holidays, and that was why Malfoy had no more interest in the arrangement that they had? But in that case, Malfoy would have contacted him, wouldn’t he? Harry spent so much time thinking about it that when he decided to look up for Malfoy back on the map, the Slytherin had already retired to his room, and Harry didn’t want to deal with that close to so many peers.

Harry decided to use this time to think. He needed to know what to do, not follow his first instincts, as he always did. There was something else at stake. There was a child at stake. Was it worth risking all he had for it? Harry was happy. Really, he was happy with the life he had now. Going after Malfoy, considering that child's paternity, would change everything he had now. On the other hand, ignoring the possibility of being the father of that child would make him a horrible person, and Harry knew that.

Besides, there was no way Malfoy could hide a baby. Whoever did this, and Harry doubted it was Malfoy himself, wanted to expose Malfoy. This person knew that he was gay - or had a strong suspicion - and had slipped him the potion because he wanted him to be a laughing stock. Harry knew that he had to do something whether or not that baby was his.

He closed his eyes, completely shaken. His heart pounded with anticipation. He planned never to have to reveal that he was bisexual. He didn’t know how the world would react, how his friends would react, how his family - because the Weasleys were his family - would react. It frightened him, and he could only imagine how much it probably frightened Malfoy too. But Harry had decided - he wouldn’t be a coward and let Malfoy deal with it without any help. Regardless of the consequences, Harry would take the target off his forehead, no matter what the cost.

It was a risk he was taking by himself, and it was both exciting and scary.

Harry waited in the Common Room until his friends showed up. They approached with doubt in their eyes, and Harry knew that his expression wasn’t good.

“Can I talk to you guys...in private?” he asked, and the other two nodded.

The three of them headed towards the lake. They walked in silence because they knew when to speak and when to wait. Harry knew he was taking a huge risk. He couldn’t lose Ron and Hermione, but he also knew that he couldn’t go on hiding a part of himself from them. It had been enough to know he had a piece of Voldemort inside him for so long.

They sat on the grass in a circle, and Harry crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I need to tell you something,” Harry said, and Ron's eyes widened.

“Is it about the girl you're dating?” he asked excitedly.

“More or less.” Harry felt his throat catch and his heart beat too fast just at the thought of saying it out loud. He could run away. Yes, maybe it was better to run and not tell. But he needed to do this. He needed to do it.

“Well?” Hermione caught his attention when he spent a long time in silence.

“It’s not a girl,” Harry said quickly. Ron frowned, and Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief.

“What?” Ron shook his head. “No... What do you mean ‘not a girl’?”

“That's exactly what I meant. Not a girl. It's a guy.”

Harry stared into Ron's eyes, who still didn’t seem to believe what he was hearing. Ron laughed, tilting his head to one side.

“But... In that case, does it mean that you are...? No, it can’t be. You would never be a fa-”
Ron stopped abruptly, the word on the tip of his tongue, but Harry's expression was furious.

“Come on! Say it, Ron! Say the word. I know what you mean,” Harry instigated, and he saw when the anger rose and coloured Ron's face a vivid scarlet.

“You can’t be one of them, Harry! I mean, you dated my sister, and you were in love with Cho! You... You can’t…”

“I'm bisexual, Ron. I like boys and girls. And I'm with a guy and fucking loving it,” Harry said, his hands clenched into fists. “Can you accept that about me? Or is it too hard for you?”

Ron looked at him, his blue eyes wide. “Harry, you're just confused…”

“I'm not confused, Ron! I'm not undecided. And I suggest you accept this before our situation gets worse.”

Silence. Harry turned his face to Hermione, who had her mouth covered with her hands. His friend's cheeks were wet, and her eyes were bright with tears. She looked from Ron to Harry, and didn’t dare say anything. Ron looked at Harry as if he’d sprouted another head.

After long minutes, Ron stood up. Harry didn’t understand his expression, whether it was anger, sadness, or confusion.

“I need to think,” Ron said, and strode off towards the castle.

Harry looked at Ron’s fading figure in the distance, and then looked at Hermione, who seemed to have recovered.

“Harry…” She sighed, and stretched, without thinking, her arms to him. Harry didn’t think twice before hugging her, and he let himself cry on her shoulder. Losing Ron would be one of the biggest losses of his life, but as long as he had Hermione, Harry knew he could handle whatever came.

But he believed that Ron would come back. He had already left once, and had returned. Ron always came back. Harry had to believe that.

Harry didn’t see Ron until around midnight. Looking at the map, Harry realised that he was in the room Hermione shared with Parvati. Parvati was in the Common Room, along with her sister and Blaise Zabini. Apparently, the Slytherin was very close to the two sisters lately. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, Harry took his map and his cloak, and stepped out into the hallways.

He lost track of how long he had walked. His legs simply carried him through the dark castle, and he looked at the map occasionally to see if anyone was nearby.

His heart was still heavy when he returned hours later, but at least his head was lighter. He ducked through the Common Room portrait, still under the cloak, and pulled it off, not expecting anyone to be up so late.

He was surprised to see Malfoy's wide eyes watching him from where he was, on the sofa by the fireplace. Harry approached him, knowing he couldn’t put off what he had to say. That conversation had to happen, and the sooner, the better.

“Are you lost, Potter?” Malfoy asked. He was dressed in his pyjamas, his feet tucked beneath him, his hair loose and messy, so his face looked adorably childlike. Harry wanted to put him on his lap and pamper him until those dark circles disappeared from under his gray eyes.

“I need to show you something.” Harry sat next to him, quickly casted a silencio and drew out the Marauder’s Map. Malfoy had seen it before, when they had to flee an empty room or a closet, so he didn’t look surprised when Harry murmured the spell to reveal Hogwarts. He opened the map just enough to show the eighth year Common Room and pointed to the dots representing the two of them, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy floating side by side.

“It's the two of us,” Malfoy said, as if Harry was stupid and hadn’t realised that obvious information.

“Pay attention.” Harry handed the map to Malfoy, who took it with both hands and brought it to his face.

It took only a second for Malfoy’s expression to change. His eyes widened like saucers, and his head jerked up in startlement.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked, and Malfoy’s face seemed to break into a thousand pieces.

“What could’ve I said, Potter? That our arrangement had to be discontinued because...because, for some unknown reason, I now have a piece of you inside me?” Malfoy asked, his voice breaking.

“I could’ve helped you! Could’ve found out who did this, who gave you this potion-”

Before Harry could finish speaking, Malfoy buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

“You... You don’t think I did it on purpose?” Malfoy raised his face, his eyes red and wet.

“No! Only a madman would do it on purpose. You wouldn’t do this to yourself. You wouldn’t do this to me.”

“You trust me too much, Potter,” Malfoy said, without venom, wiping his face quickly. “Ignore the tears. It's the hormones.”

Harry didn’t know what made him do it. He had been intimate with Malfoy in many ways, but at that moment, when his hand touched Malfoy’s and squeezed it, it seemed he was crossing a line he had never dared to cross before. And it was strange, because they were sitting next to each other, talking about it.

“I want to help you, Malfoy. And before you say you don’t need it-” Harry said quickly, as Malfoy opened his mouth to deny him, “I know you don’t need it. I know you can deal with it alone. I know. But I'll never sleep in peace if I leave you alone. Besides... It was my fault, too, wasn’t it? I mean... It doesn’t matter if someone gave you that potion without you knowing, you didn’t do it alone, did you?” Harry said, and Malfoy took a deep breath, looking conflicted as he bit his lower lip thoughtfully. His hair was so light that under the firelight, Harry watched as his eyelashes changed from platinum to orange.

“I don’t want to be a charity case, Potter. I don’t want…” Malfoy lifted his head, staring at him. “I don’t want you to help me out of pity.”

“I'm not helping you out of pity. I want to help you out of pure selfishness. If you will…” Harry took a deep breath, a strange smile coming to his lips as he knew he was going to say it. “If you're going to have my baby, I want to be his father. I... I’ve always wanted to be a father. And the situation is not ideal... I’ve never imagined that it would happen to me, or to you, but it happened, and now we’re going to deal with it in the best way possible.”

Malfoy studied him for a long time before saying anything.

“You're very optimistic, Potter. You know that this might destroy your life. People will know that you are... That you…”

“That I'm bi? Or gay? Or whatever?” Harry sighed. “I know. I…” He swallowed, crossing his arms. His right leg began to shake in place, up and down. “I told Ron and Hermione. That I was... You know? Ron is not talking to me.” Harry's voice dropped considerably as he said it. Just remembering Ron's expression when he'd told him was painful, and Harry didn’t exactly want to think about it, but it was impossible to forget. “I know what the wizarding world thinks of what we are, Malfoy. But you're an idiot if you think I'm going to let you go through this alone.”

“What do you suggest then, Potter? I don’t see us getting married anytime soon,” Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well... We may not get married, but I want to be a part of the baby's life, so we’ll see each other very often. And I'll help you with whatever you need. Let's... Take care of him or her together. So... I think the first step would be... To be friends, you know? What do you think?” Harry looked at him hopefully, and Malfoy bit his lower lip.

He seemed to consider his options before nodding, and held out a hand to Harry.

“Friends, then?”

Harry smiled, squeezing his hand firmly, his own practically enveloping Malfoy's smaller hand.

“Friends.”

They released their hands, and Harry looked out the window. The sun was beginning to rise in the distance. Soon his friends would wake up. And it was already too late - or too early. They needed to sleep. But Harry still had some questions.

“Malfoy-- Draco... As for our agreement... Does it still exist?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“I... I think we should wait a little longer to start over. I mean, I don’t want to stop totally, but... I am... too emotional lately. I don’t think it's a good time to have sex. But... When I promised I'd send you a message when I wanted to have sex, I was telling the truth,” Draco said, smiling sideways and running his hand through his hair.

“And…” Harry looked around once more. “Is it showing yet? I mean...?” He indicated to Malfoy’s stomach with his head, and Malfoy laughed.

“Cloak?” Malfoy requested, and Harry was quick to pull his feet up on the couch and throw the cloak over them.

Malfoy turned a little sideways, lifting the hem of his pyjama top up to his ribs. As skinny as Malfoy was, the slight curve in his belly appeared extremely obvious to Harry's eyes. His eyes widened, and his heart pounded so hard that Harry thought it might just explode. He held out a hand, unsure, but Malfoy nodded, giving him permission.

His hand seemed to wrap around that tiny little curve, and it was Harry who felt his eyes water as he felt it. It was a baby. A baby, in there. He lifted his head to Malfoy, who laughed at his expression; his eyes were wet too.

“We're going... We're going to be parents!” Harry whispered, and Malfoy patted his arm lightly.

“Yes, you idiot. We are” Harry felt like an idiot. But he was so, so happy, and yet terrified. They were only eighteen, and the world hated what they were. But Harry had high hopes. He always had.

---

Being Potter's friend, Draco realised, was surprisingly easy. They hadn’t yet begun spending time together public, but spent a lot of time in Potter's dormitory sitting behind the privacy of his bed-curtains and a silencio. No one ever interrupted them, and Draco found this surprising. It had been two weeks since they begun this little nightly ritual, talking about various things, but usually about Draco and the baby; how he was feeling and whether anyone other than Harry had noticed yet. Harry told him that Hermione knew, and Draco realised that he’d caught her watching him knowingly during class on more than one occasion; but she’d thankfully made no comment nor did Draco expect her to. As much as he'd spent years considering Hermione Granger to be less than himself, he couldn’t bring himself to anymore. She was still annoying, but she was the brightest witch of her time. Draco had learned to recognise this.

They decided that if it were a boy, they would follow the Black tradition and name him after the stars or constellations. If she were a girl, they would follow the Evans’ tradition and name her after a flower.

Being so close to Potter also made Draco feel strange. For starters, they hadn’t had sex for months and that was something so odd to them that it was as if a huge elephant was sitting between them during all the conversations. And it made him think strange thoughts; thoughts of how thick and delicious Potter's lips were, how green his eyes were, how dark and soft his hair was, and the dimples that formed in his cheeks as he smiled. Draco also thought of Potter's low, deep-timbred voice, as if he wasn’t sure of what to say, different from his own, fast and loaded with a posh countryside accent, which always made him look arrogant even if it wasn’t his intention.

He caught himself staring at Potter's hands, large, calloused. One day Draco asked about the scar on his hand, and Harry told him about Umbridge's punishments and Dumbledore's Army, and what he taught his classmates with such passion that Draco found himself asking Potter to teach him to cast a Patronus charm.

The first time people saw them together, really, was when Dean and Seamus saw them practicing the Patronus Charm on the Quidditch pitch one day when there was no training. Draco managed to conjure a non-corporeal patronus on the third day, and a corporeal patronus in less than two weeks. It wasn’t difficult, really, even with the baby draining part of his energy. Draco thought of Potter lying in his bed, his head on Draco’s stomach, even though his baby bump wasn’t obvious, telling it that he would kill and die for his baby and for Draco. The shining lynx would come out even brighter as Draco remembered that Harry Potter would die for him.

Draco sometimes dreamed of the Fiendfyre. But he would wake up calmly. He had no fear during those dreams, because he was more concerned with smelling Potter through the smoke.

Draco was there when Ron Weasley approached Potter looking like a kicked dog. Potter paid no heed when Weasley looked at Malfoy as if wondering what he was doing there. Rumours of Potter and Draco's new ‘friendship’ had already spread through the school, and as a result, Draco had suffered fewer attacks in the hallways although now, Potter had begun to receive them as well.

The dismal look on Weasley’s face wouldn’t have looked out of place if he’d lost another brother He didn’t look at Potter, and they talked too low for Draco to understand. However, Draco could hear perfectly when Weasley spoke, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Hermione told me... She…” Weasley paused for a few seconds, shoulders tense. “His baby - it's yours, isn’t it? Is Malfoy your boyfriend?”

Potter turned his face to Draco, as if asking permission to reveal the truth. Draco sighed, shrugging, and Potter turned to Weasley, simply nodding in answer.

Weasley's eyes widened, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fiery-red fringe.

“Harry, you're going to be a father!” Weasley whispered incredulously, and Potter laughed that wonderful laugh he had.

Draco noticed in mid-February, during a strange conversation near the Quidditch pitch, with Weasley and Potter trying to retrieve lost pieces of a friendship once as strong as a Hungarian Horntail, that he was falling in love with Potter.

It was scary.

Blaise, for his part, was no longer talking to him. Draco didn’t understand why. He had done nothing wrong besides being seen practicing magic with Potter. On second thought, Draco had been taking great care in changing clothes. His body was changing too fast, his stomach a little more round than the previous month, his chest sensitive, and not quite flat as it was before, his nipples rosier and slightly pronounced. But even so, there was no way Blaise could know…

Was there?

Around the beginning of March, it was harder to disguise his stomach. Draco was grateful that Hogwarts robes were large, but his trousers needed to be widened a little more each week. His bump wasn’t too big, and he was still thin, but it was unthinkable to wear any shirt that leaned directly on his body. His jumpers needed to be loose, and the shirts he used underneath it couldn’t be too loose. His chest was too sensitive, growing even larger, so he used his shirts to flatten it up a bit. Sometimes, alone in his bedroom, he would look at himself in the mirror and hate these changes. At other times, he wondered if Potter would find him handsome anyway. He used to be fascinated with his nipples, and now that they were bigger, would he...?

Draco tried to ignore these thoughts. To acknowledge that Potter might like his body like that would be to accept that it was okay to have breasts, and Draco didn’t know if he could accept that yet. They already fit in the palm of his hand, and they were sore. From what Madame Pomfrey had told him, it wasn’t exactly the effect of the potion. His body was full of hormones, which made it start to develop differently during that period of pregnancy. The potions helped with his magic, so he had no trouble with his lessons.. He was always tired, though, and it was getting increasingly difficult to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

It was also strange to be spending time with the golden trio. Weasley and Granger seemed to accept him as if he had always been there, even though Weasley still looked at him odd at times. They treated him as if he were Potter's boyfriend, and Potter didn’t deny it. Nor did Draco. There was no reason, was there? They would raise a child together, even if they weren’t kissing, touching or having sex.

Merlin, Draco missed Potter's touch.

He never thought he would miss him, but he did. He missed Potter finding him between classes to press him against a wall, kissing every part of his body. He missed the possessiveness with which Potter held him, though Draco was no more than a pastime to him. They’d both been nothing but a passtime to each other, but now with the baby...something had changed. At least for Draco. And he had allowed himself to be Potter’s friend, things had changed even more. He had always criticised Potter for being what he was: idiot, befriending the wrong people, clearly inept at the most basic activities of the wizarding world. But now that he knew him better... Draco couldn’t have been more wrong. Potter was intelligent, loyal and brave. He was willing to fight the world for who he loved, and Draco, little by little, began to feel included in that group.

But he couldn’t be sure, of course. He couldn’t claim that Potter loved him, even though he was extremely protective of him. It was because of the baby, Draco knew. But still, when he lay down at night to sleep, Draco thought that maybe Potter might love him too. Just a little.

Sometimes Draco could see the longing way Potter looked at him. He spent so much time around him every day that he was sure he was not going out with anyone else, which meant that he too had gone without sex for as long as Draco had. Potter sometimes held his hand longer than necessary, or stared at him for too long, sighing at his side as they studied together with Weasley and Granger in the Common Room.

The first time he actually slept next to Potter, it was completely unplanned. They were up late talking about whether they should let people know that they were gay or not, or just let them to find out naturally, when Draco was startled to find the birds already up and chirping outside.

“Sleep here,” Potter said softly, tucking a lock of his blond hair behind one ear. Draco needed a haircut, but he didn’t care enough to do it. “I promise not to... I won’t do anything.”

Draco almost wished he would do something. They slept side by side, and when Draco woke up the next day, his back was against Potter's chest, and the Gryffindor hugged him almost possessively. Draco didn’t move a muscle for fear of waking him up. He wanted to stay there, be selfish for as long as he could.

After that, sleeping together had become routine.

At the end of April, it became impossible to hide. Not even his Hogwarts robes could hide his stomach anymore, and Draco walked more slowly. He felt his hips aching, and even though his chest wasn’t as sensitive as it was in the beginning, it was still an extremely delicate area that grew even more. He could hold them with one hand now, and it was obvious that he had gained considerable weight.

He was leaving the potions class when he felt a hand holding him by the arm and pushing him against the wall. There was a mass of students around, and Weston looked at him as if about to unravel a secret.

“Hey, Malfoy. It is true that you are…?” The Gryffindor giggled, followed by the laughter of his other two friends. “Is it true that someone got you pregnant? Who was the idiot who had the nerve to shove his cock in you?”

“It's none of your business, Weston. Leave me alone,” Draco said, unnerved, trying to leave. When it was just him, he wasn’t afraid to get punched or kicked in the hallways. But there was a baby in him now. Any blow could be fatal, and whether or not he’d had his doubts about keeping the baby earlier in the pregnancy, Draco loved him completely now. It was his baby. If something happened to his baby, Draco knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“No, seriously, Malfoy. Are you really pregnant?” Weston insisted, reaching for the robes of Draco's uniform. Draco squirmed, however, trying to escape that unwanted touch.

Another boy grabbed his other arm, pressing it against the wall completely and preventing him from trying to run. The other students circled around them, obviously curious.

Draco couldn’t help it when Weston opened his robes, and the obvious volume of his stomach was on display for everyone to see.

“Fucking hell, Malfoy! Someone really knocked you up!” Weston began to laugh like a lunatic, and Draco's eyes filled with tears. He’d never been so ashamed in his entire life, with so many people around. “Who had the guts to do it?”

”Me. I had the guts.” Draco heard Potter's voice, and closed his eyes, asking Merlin for it to end. Involuntarily, his tears fell, and the hands that held him were replaced by others, more careful. He turned his face, opening his eyes and seeing Weasley's chest, who looked like a fighting rooster from where Draco could see him.

Draco never thought he would feel protected with Weasley by his side, but he felt. Granger was on his other side, her wand aimed at his attackers. She was small compared to them, but her wand didn’t tremble. Potter walked up between him and Weston, and Draco felt like an idiot for finding Potter sexy right then. He was big, strong and menacing and Draco wanted everyone to know that he - and only him - was having sex with Potter, even though they hadn’t done it for months.

“Are you going to call me a ponce to my face, Weston? Come on, I'm waiting.” Potter spread his arms, and Weston looked at him as if he didn’t believe it.

“You're going too far to protect this fucker, Potter. I'm sure Malfoy doesn’t even know who the father of this abomination he's carrying is--”

“The abomination, Weston, is my baby. So I would be little bit more careful while speaking about it.” Potter approached the other Gryffindor, holding him by his collar. “You don’t want to end up dead like Voldemort, do you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Weston murmured, trying to look brave but clearly frightened.

“Try me,” Potter threatened, pushing him back. Potter turned to all the students who were looking and declared, out loud, “Those of you who have anything against Malfoy because he's gay, you also have something against me. I am the father of the child he carries, so know that if someone lays even a finger on him, you’ll hear from me.” Harry approached Draco now, ignoring everyone around him and hugging him tightly.

Draco hugged him back, feeling like Potter was the one to make him breathe again. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against his shoulder and breathing in his scent. His heart pounded, and he could no longer deny his feelings for Potter. Not after that. Not after Potter revealed his own secret to help Draco.

“Let's get out of here.” Potter said, kissing his hair and pulling him into the Eighth Year’s Common Room. Weasley and Granger didn’t put away their wands, and Draco mentally thanked them for being so loyal to Potter.

When they reached the Common Room, however, it wasn’t Potter who pulled him aside to talk. Weasley and Granger called him into a corner of the room, ignoring the students who might have been there. Potter stood near the doorway, like a watchdog.

“Malfoy,” Weasley started. “Look... I don’t know how you did it, and, frankly, I don’t think I care anymore. But you're making Harry happy. And I know you don’t have… a relationship or anything, but now you're going to be bound to Harry forever, and that means you’re bound to us as well. I admit that you've changed and that... you’re a decent bloke. We'll be here for you as long as you're here for Harry. And we'll be here for...for the baby too, if you need it.”

The whole speech seemed too rehearsed for him, but it felt good to hear it anyway. Granger looked at Weasley with pride in her eyes, and turned to Draco, ready to give her speech as well.

“Count on us. We may not be your best friends, Malfoy, but... We really have learnt to like you. And if someone does to you the same thing Weston was doing... We’ll be here.” And then, unexpectedly, she hugged him. Draco didn’t know what to do right away, but after a few seconds, he touched her shoulder, awkwardly. It seemed enough.

“Thank you,” was all he could say. He knew his hormones would make him cry if he tried to elaborate. Turning to look at Potter, he saw him receiving hugs and a pat on the back from Thomas and Finnigan. Potter looked at him, a smile on his face and Draco felt that everything would be alright.

That night, Draco went to his dormitory feeling calmer. Despite the emotions of the day, he felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt finally free.

As he walked in, he saw Blaise there, with a book in his hands. Zabini raised an eyebrow and made a strange expression, like one who stomps on an insect without shoes.

“So it is true. You're a sodomite,” Blaise said, and Draco seemed to realise that his robes were open. He pulled them, instinctively, over his own body. Blaise snorted. “There’s no use hiding. The whole school knows you've spread your legs for Potter, of all people. Couldn’t you have humiliated your family any more, Malfoy?”

“Blaise! I thought you were…”

“Your friend?” Zabini closed the book, looking at him seriously. ”I'm friend to those who can give me something, Malfoy. After your father was arrested and you lost the Manor, I was considering my possibilities. But there was a rumor that you were... that, and I needed to be sure. Now that you have proved it to be true... I think that makes us mere acquaintances.”

Draco felt his heart skip a beat, and his blood froze. An irrational rage rose to his head, and Draco drew his wand, pointing to Zabini's face.

“It was you! You did this to me!” Draco's hand shook with rage, and Zabini rose from his bed, drawing his wand as well.

“You can’t prove it. And even if you could, I didn’t commit any crime, Malfoy. The potion is not illegal, and lasts only 24 hours. You fucked Potter because you wanted to. If you'd only waited a day before opening your legs like a bitch, nothing would have happened.”

Draco felt his throat close. It was true. It was all true, and he had nothing to do but stay as far away from Zabini as possible.

“How could you...?” Draco asked, his hand wandering down, anger being replaced with sadness - betrayal.

“Are you surprised, Malfoy? Or did you just forget you're a Slytherin? You’re so surrounded by Gryffindors that you’re starting to think like them. The thing you did...that resulted in that,” Zabini nodded toward Draco's stomach, “is a mudblood thing. People without tradition, poor spirits.”

Draco stared at him for a few seconds.

“I didn’t forget, Zabini.” Draco answered, approaching his own bed and picking up his trunk. Slowly, he began to take his belongings from his side table and began to put them inside the trunk. Zabini made no comments, nor did Draco.

Draco knew how the Slytherins worked. After all, he was one. Perhaps it was Blaise Zabini who had forgotten.

Draco didn’t sleep that night. He took his trunk to the Gryffindors' dormitory, which, despite having a limited number of beds, was quite spacious. He sat on Potter's bed, not caring that he was there with Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom, and told them what had happened.

Hermione, skillful with transfiguration, enlarged Potter’s bed. Longbottom and Weasley pushed their own beds aside for a little more space, and everyone swore to do something to Zabini if Draco asked.

Draco just smiled. “I need something simple. Weasley, would your sister accept to do something for me?” Draco asked, and Ron shook his head.

“For you? No. But for Harry? Certainly. What do you need, Malfoy?” he asked, and Draco's smile brightened.

The next morning, there was a horde of students with badges on their robes. Against a bright, glittering green, Zabini's head floated, with a legible ‘Zabini Stinks’ shining in orange. Ginny Weasley had convinced half the school to use them, and it was impossible to make the badges say anything else. When someone tried to make it blank or say something else, it emitted, in a squeaky voice, the same words that were written.

Potter was wearing a special edition, in red and gold.

It was particularly exciting for Draco to see that the Patil twins were no longer talking to Zabini. In fact, each of them had a badge on their robes.

“Look on the bright side, Zabini,” Finnigan shouted in the common room when Zabini came up to his dormitory, his expression so closed that his lips were just a line on his face. “At least now you have a dormitory all to yourself.”

The attacks in the corridors stopped, although the whispers and the giggles didn’t. It was still something. Draco, encouraged by Hermione, told McGonagall what Blaise had done. Blaise was right was right: he couldn’t be accused of committing a crime, but his attitude earned him detention with Slughorn until the end of the school year. It wasn’t even close to what Draco wanted him to get, but it was something.

By the beginning of May, everyone was fretting about their NEWTs, studying until the last minute. Draco tried to keep up with his classmates, but by then he was six months pregnant, and he always ended up falling asleep on Potter's shoulder and waking up magically on their bed.

One of those nights, when Potter laid him gently on the bed they'd been sharing for almost a month, Draco woke up and looked Potter, who was looking at him with deep affection. Draco smiled, and maybe because he was still between sleep and awareness, he held Potter by the neck and kissed him. A delicate kiss of recognition. They pulled away seconds later, and Harry's expression was both startled and joyful.

“Come to bed now?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded. He just took off his shoes and jeans before drawing the curtains, sticking them in place with a spell and lying behind Draco, hugging him against his chest. Potter's warm hand touched his stomach, his thumb stroking over it .

A sudden movement made Potter sit up, startled, looking at Draco, who also had his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What...? What was that...?” Potter asked, and Draco smiled.

He put both his hands on his bump, his smile widening even more. He took one of Potter’s hands and placed it where his had been. Potter waited anxiously for a few minutes, until it happened again. Draco saw Potter’s lower lip tremble before he whispered, “It's our baby, Draco. He's moving...”

Draco felt like he hadn’t ever seen a smile more beautiful than Potter’s at that moment. He’d never loved a person as much as he loved Potter at that moment.

The first time they had sex after Draco got pregnant was after their NEWTs. Firstly because Draco couldn’t touch himself, since he slept in the same bed as Potter and had no privacy at night, unless he went to the bathroom. He discovered that being pregnant only increased his libido, and he needed to wank, or he felt like he might just die. Secondly, because he slept in the same bed as Potter, who regularly had…dreams.

Dreams in which he called Draco by his name and woke up so hard that Draco had to pretend to be sleeping so as not to fall into the temptation to give himself to him.

The truth is, he hadn’t had sex all these months because he was insecure about his own body. There were so many changes in such a short time; Draco had changed so drastically that he had no confidence in his own appearance. He had gained at least six kilos since the beginning of his pregnancy. He had a huge belly and he had breasts. He knew it was inevitable, that the baby had to eat somehow, but it wasn’t natural for him. Those appendages ached, they were heavy, his shoulders and back ached constantly. They weren’t that big - Draco could close his hand over them - but they were still something that were never there before, and now they were. He was afraid of what Potter was going to say, or how he would react when he saw it.

But Draco couldn’t bear it anymore, and the looks Potter gave him told him that he couldn’t either.

They were no longer taking classes, and soon they would leave Hogwarts for good. Draco knew exactly what they would do after school. Narcissa made Draco convince Harry to move in with them into their new house. They had enough room, and Narcissa could decorate the baby's nursery while they were still at school. Draco wanted her to understand that they weren’t boyfriends, but Narcissa just replied with, ‘Only you two believe you are not. All of your classmates and the entire wizarding world already speak of you as the couple of the century.’

Unexpectedly, Harry agreed. He had a house - Grimmauld Place - but it was a dark old place. Not even Draco wanted him to live there. There would be the disadvantage of living with Draco’s mother, but Narcissa had her own wing in the New Manor, and her quarters were completely separated, joined only by a large garden and a beautiful open hallway.

With that thought, he headed to the bathroom. He wanted to take a long shower, and prepare himself not only physically and emotionally.

---

When Harry lay down in his bed that night, he had no expectations. He and Draco were kissing often, that's true. Often they fall asleep in the middle of a calm, delicate kiss, their legs intertwined, Harry's hand on Draco's stomach, and Draco's fingers in his hair. It was good. It was calm, and it suited him. He didn’t know if he could bear it forever, but right now, Harry could handle it very well.

Draco came back from the bathroom wearing his pyjamas. He smelt luscious, heady, with a touch of something green and citrus, like a forest of lemon trees. Harry held out his arms so Draco could lie between them. Draco shook his head.

“Today... I want to-” Draco tried, and Harry waited patiently for him to continue. Draco, however, turned his face, his cheeks flushed. It was strange to see him embarrassed, because during the time they were together, Draco wasn’t contained. When he wanted something, he would go and get it. Now, perhaps because of all the changes he had gone through, Harry sensed he wasn’t so sure of himself.

“You can tell me anything.” Harry encouraged, touching his leg gently.

Draco turned his face to him, and watched him as if considering his possibilities. Harry waited, but Draco apparently decided not to show, but to do. He lifted his hands to the first button of his pyjama top, which was spelled looser on his body, and began to unbutton.

Harry sat down at once, startled. Draco was really doing it, after months. Harry felt the anticipation take over his body, and an excitement overpowered him.

“I’m not... I'm not sure about… how I look now,” Draco said, his hands stopping at the buttons below his chest. “I don’t know if you're going to like what you’ll see.”

“I’ll like you no matter how you look,” Harry answered, too quickly, and noticed when Draco tried to control his smile, but couldn’t.

“You haven’t seen me naked since last year,” Draco reminded him.

“It doesn’t matter. No matter how you look under your clothes, I'll find you just as handsome” Harry assured him gently, and Draco nodded. Harry used this moment to cast a silencing spell. Draco unbuttoned all the buttons, and finally let the shirt slid down his shoulders and floated down to the bed.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and that was a bad idea, because Draco tried to cover his body with his hands.

“No, no, don’t do that…” Harry grabbed Draco's wrists, preventing him from covering himself. “I just wasn’t expecting it... Let me... Let me see?”

Draco spent a few seconds looking at him, analysing his face, before nodding nervously, pulling back his arms.

He was still very pale, as he had always been. His stomach was large enough to be something that attracted a lot of attention, but what was above it was what Harry couldn’t stop looking at. Draco's chest, which was something Harry loved as much as he loved his arse, was grown - obviously full of milk. His nipples were dark pink, and they were pointing forward, as if waiting for Harry's mouth.

Harry swallowed the saliva that flooded his mouth.

“Can I...?” Harry pointed at his chest, and Draco smirked, understanding his intention.

“Is this one of those days?” he asked, and Harry nodded. Harry patted the bed, wordlessly inviting Draco to lie down beside him, and slowly, Draco complied.

With caution, Harry propped himself up on one elbow beside him. His left hand went to Draco’s left breast and cupped it, testing, feeling the weight.

“It's beautiful,” Harry couldn’t stop himself saying, and Draco's cheeks went red. “It feels so obscene to be excited about it, but... But I'm so hard, Draco…”

Draco moaned softly at the words. He brought his own hand to his right breast, holding it underneath with his long fingers and circling the nipple with his thumb.

“Then come here, Harry… Put your mouth on me.”

Harry grunted, doing just that. His hot mouth wrapped around the nipple he held, and he sucked, a needy moan coming out of his throat. Draco’s hand went straight into his dark hair, and Harry took off Draco's hand from his other breast, replacing with his own.

It was so intense compared to their complete lack of sex until the day before. Harry clinged the opportunity like a hungry man to food. His tongue circled the pink nub, his teeth tugged it lightly, then he sucked hard. Draco moaned with his eyes closed, his grip on Harry's hair tightening even more as Harry opened his mouth wider, sucking half of the breast into his mouth.

Harry shifted his attention to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. As he did so, he reached down to Draco's pyjama bottom, thrusting his hand through the elastic and finding his already hard cock. Without asking, Harry began to move his hand up and down, and Draco shivered beneath him.

“I want you…” Harry said, looking up at Draco. “I want to be in you again…”

“Yes, yes, I want you too…” Draco sighed, relieved, and it all happened very quickly from there.

Harry took off his clothes with incredible speed, and with them, the last of Draco's clothes. He didn’t want to have to fumble around the curtains to look for the lubricant on his bedside table, so he conjured up a little with his wand, and prepared Draco, all the while with his mouth in his pale chest. His nipples were already redder and more swollen than when they started, and Harry had a feeling that the more he sucked, the closer they were to leaking.

He felt ashamed of how excited he was when he thought of it.

But to his astonishment, it happened. It happened when Harry had four fingers inside Draco, and his mouth working frantically on his chest. Draco pushed his head away, a little scared, and Harry just looked at him. His mouth was shining with saliva, and Harry didn’t stop moving his fingers inside of him, the other holding Draco's leg away from his body.

“If you continue with this... It will..." Draco tried to explain, and Harry's movements became sharper, deeper. Draco moaned loudly.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. Without thinking, Harry took the hand that was on Draco's leg to his breast, and squeezed. From the tip of his nipple, a long, warm white spurt shot out, running down Harry’s fingers.

Harry let out a surprised groan, and squeezed harder. Draco's eyes closed and his body arched, a desperate moan coming from his lips.

“Harry...!”

“I want to fuck you, Draco... I want to fuck you while you drip on my hands... Do you want this...?” Harry teased, the tip of his fingers brushing against the blond's prostate.

“Aaah...! Yes, I want it! Come on, Harry, come on, come on!” Draco pulled Harry in with his arms, and Harry didn’t want to wait. He used the lube still in his palm to wet his cock and knelt between Draco's legs. He bent down to give him a quick, deep kiss. He lifted his head again, opening Draco's legs with one hand, and with the other, putting lining his cock up with his hole.

Harry thrust in with a long, fluid motion, and if possible, Draco was even tighter in there than he’d been before. He groaned involuntarily, and Draco squirmed under him. It was like they were doing it for the first time, but it was different. In a way, this was the first time. Because now, Harry felt for Draco many, many things he didn’t think he would feel back then. His heart warmed to see the face of his lover in an expression of delight, but also of joy, also of concentration. He loved Draco's face, his expressions; his voice, his gaze, his movements.

There, buried deep inside him, knees resting on the sides of Draco's arse-cheeks, moving slowly inside him, Harry realised that he loved Draco Malfoy, and not just because they had wonderful sex. He loved him because Draco was smart, he was strong, he was brave, he was handsome, he was good in bed, he was funny... He might not be very wise, but who was at eighteen? Besides Hermione, of course. One way or another, there was more to it than just lust there. There was a lifetime between them. A lifetime.

Harry started to move faster, not letting himself go too hard. There was a baby between them, and Harry needed to be careful, even though he knew Draco could take it. Harry put a hand on the breast that was already oozing a little and held it, squeezing it lightly. The pale liquid began to fall in tiny drops, and Harry had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t come so quickly. What was happening to him?

“Do you like to see that you left me like this?” Draco's voice reached his ears, and Harry was surprised. Draco didn’t use to talk dirty, it was always Harry who did it. Harry nodded, his movements becoming faster, the slide of his cock into Draco's body hypnotic. “Hnn... You like to know that... You’re the only one who has done this? Who fucked me, and now... Aah... Now, you can see me carrying your child, and know that only you can fuck me?”

Harry moaned loudly, his hand tightening, his fingers wet. His cock was pounding inside Draco's body. He was so close.

“Are you mine, Draco?” Harry asked, droplets of sweat pouring down his back. “Are you mine?”

”I'm yours... Only yours, Harry! Only yours...” Draco said quietly, and Harry could no longer control his own body. He took both hands to Draco's thighs and thrust in two more times before pouring into him, his eyes fixed on Draco's face and chest. Harry felt the pleasure come even stronger when Draco bit his lower lip and gave in to his own orgasm, moaning with his mouth shut, his hands gripping the sheets.

Harry forced himself to pull away, lying next to Draco, both of them on their backs.

“I missed that,” Harry confessed, reaching for Draco's hand and holding it over the bed.

“Me too,” Draco other replied. A few seconds passed in silence, until Harry broke it.

“How are we going to be now, Draco?”

“Hm?”

“Are we… Are we a couple, or...?”

“What do you want, Harry?” Draco turned his face to him, his tired eyes looking bright at the moment.

“I want you forever.”

The phrase came so easily from Harry's lips that he was surprised at himself. Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes and smiling.

“Me too, Harry. I want you forever,” he said in a whisper, and wasn’t surprised when Harry approached him once more, kissing his lips with affection. Draco let himself be carried away by that kiss, and lost track of how long it was until Harry lifted his head.

“Let me play with you?” Harry asked, and Draco laughed, putting his arms under his head to give Harry free access to his chest. Harry didn’t wait. He wrapped Draco’s nipple with his mouth, sighing at the feeling of the hard nub against his tongue. Draco closed his eyes and let himself go.

Nothing that happened that year was what Harry expected, that was a fact. But now that he was about to leave Hogwarts for good, he knew that being there with Draco, expecting his first child, was something he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

- Four years later –

“Whewe's Papa?” Little blue eyes watched his face as Harry walked down the corridors of St. Mungos with a toddler on his arms. Altair was a chubby three-year-old boy, curly and very black hair falling to his shoulders. He had lighter skin than Harry's, but many shades darker than Draco's. Altair was, without a doubt, a perfect mix of the two. His hands were Harry's, just like his hair and mouth, but his pointy nose was all Draco's. The boy wore blue trousers with brooms on them, sneakers that shone when he stepped on the floor, and a dark blue jumper, the letter A embroidered at the front, in silver.

“He's healing, remember? Your little brother was born yesterday,” Harry answered, and the boy wrinkled his nose.

“Why little bwother? Don’t want little bwother,” Altair complained, and Harry only laughed. He reached the door to Draco's bedroom and opened it, entering the room silently.

Draco was on the hospital bed, seated with a small, tightly wrapped bundle in his arms. The white sheets made him even paler, and Draco looked tired, but his face was bright with joy.

“Hey,” Harry greeted him, coming closer. Draco raised his face and Harry kissed his lips, placing Altair on the bed next to Draco.

The newborn baby, whom they decided to call Perseus, was glued to Draco's chest, eyes closed, but mouth sucking fiercely on a nipple.

“Hey.” Draco nodded back, then glanced at the boy. “Look, Alty. Your little brother, Perseus.”

Altair looked at the baby with a look of mistrust, narrowing his blue eyes. He studied his brother for a few seconds before declaring:

“Okay. He's cute.” Altair’s voice mimicked Draco’s, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh. He felt his heart grow at least five times in size as he turned to face Draco, who was looking at him with a similar joy.

“I love you,” Draco whispered, and Harry whispered back.

“I love you more.”

- end -